


How Much Longer Until Fox Springs?

by holyhael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, crappy, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhael/pseuds/holyhael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s something I want to show you, but I don’t think it’s advisable while you’re driving.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Much Longer Until Fox Springs?

It was a normal hunt except for Sam’s absence. It was a normal hunt except for how unrelieved Dean felt. It was a normal hunt except for the presence of the angel on an otherwise menial salt-n-burn. It was a normal hunt except for the way Cas was suddenly… Cas. He’d always been Cas, don’t be silly, but free from heavenly civil wars and with the weight of Purgatory behind them at last, Cas finally had a chance to be… himself.

He smiled some more. When Dean made a little joke, he’d laugh even if he didn’t quite understand. And then when Dean explained the joke, Cas laughed more earnestly. 

He appeared, not for lack of a better word or anything, human. As human as Dean was, as Sam was, as Bobby had been. Not once on the hunt did Dean suspect him of using angelic cheat sheets. There was no disappearing and reappearing, no glowing, no snapping fingers. Just human Cas. 

And damn if it didn’t flip Dean’s world upside down.[  
](balthazaur.tumblr.com)

Yeah, Cas was an angel. That was something he never seemed to let Dean forget. However, today, he wasn’t. Just as human as Dean. Dean forgot for hours as they drove to the next town. He realized in the middle of a deserted stretch of Interstate 35 as Cas was telling a story about the elder’s home. 

“She still believes my name is Charles,” he said. “Nothing I said could convince her otherwise. Eventually, I got curious, and I decided to see for myself what he looked like. I do not think we look very similar.” 

Dean was in the middle of wondering how fluffy Cas’ hair actually felt when his words hit his ears. The first question Dean wanted to ask was  _how?_ but before he could get the syllable out, he looked back over to see Cas’ practically inhumanly blue eyes pining him to the driver’s seat and he remembered: Cas wasn’t human. 

That meant that the thoughts Dean was having weren’t  _exactly_ right. 

Interspecies relations? Even though Cas looked human enough, Dean knew that he wasn’t. And you couldn’t exactly go about dating angels, right? They weren’t wired to feel, especially as Cas did now. Fuck, Dean had probably broken the angel beyond repair, and now he was fantasizing about destroying him more? Dean’s eyes closed briefly, very near a grimace. 

Cas caught on. “Is something wrong? Should I not have investigated?” 

Dean had to think for a moment about what Cas was talking about.  _Not_ the inner workings of his perverted mind, but the idle ramblings of an elderly widow’s. Not that that made it better but… that made it better. 

“You don’t just go snooping around people’s minds, Cas,” Dean reminded him, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glare at the angel. “I told you: brains are off limits. Caution tape, flashing lights, the whole nine yards - imagine that in everyone’s heads.” 

Cas looked perplexed. “I didn’t snoop in her mind,” he said. “She had a photo album, and I asked her to show it to me.” 

Oh. Well. Dean squirmed, cheeks getting hot. At least Cas knew. At least Dean knew Cas knew. He tried to work up a smile to show Cas it was all dandy, but his attempt was barely more than a twitching of lips. 

“How much longer until Fox Springs?” 

Out the window, emerging from the darkness, Dean spied a road sign advertising Bartlesville: only 25 miles away, cowboy! On the other end of the fat, boot-clad midget’s rope that was a faded pink pig, it’s eyes comically eyelashed and mouth lipsticked, smiling as if the rope wasn’t about to cinch around its neck any second. “Another forty miles or so.” A thought struck Dean suddenly. “Why didn’t you just zap there?” 

Cas again turned that adorably confused expression his way. “Because you told me not to.” 

Oh, yeah. It felt like ages ago. Dean had totally forgotten the first hunt Cas had officially been a hunter on. In his head, he did the math… seven months. 

“Well, thanks.” 

Dean liked the angel riding shotgun. There wasn’t any tension, like there was with him and Sam. Cas let him play his music. Cas could sit in the quiet. Cas could be his friend. Cas could kiss him… 

The car swerved as Dean jerked himself out of that thought.  _No,_ he chastised his brain.  _Thinking about the_ angel  _is off limits._  

“Are you okay?” 

“Just peachy.” 

He looked over at Cas and found himself locked with those ocean blues. 

Maybe Dean was wrong thinking there was no tension between him and Cas. It was just a different tension than he was used to with Sam. He snapped himself back to the road before he could do anything stupid like  _actually_ kissing Cas. 

“Dean, are you sure everything is peachy?” asked Cas after several long moments of silence. 

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Sam’s happy doing his thing. I have you-” 

Cas was nodding before Dean could finish his list of things that he didn’t find too bad. “You do.” 

“What?” 

“You have me.” 

Dean looked back at him, unable to stop himself. Those eyes were so sincere, so happy to just be in the car with moody Dean. Dean felt all at once put together and torn apart beneath that gaze, but mostly he felt the way he imagined it did when Cas took his screaming, tarnished soul into his hands and mended it into the bright thing Cas claimed it to be. He could practically feel the blemishes in him shining back to new. 

“How much longer until Fox Springs?” Cas asked again. 

“Why?” 

“There’s something I want to show you, but I don’t think it’s advisable while you’re driving.” 

Honestly, the first thing that came to Dean’s perverted mind was road head, but surely even Cas understood that that was an activity  _for_ driving… not that that was on his mind. Being curious, Dean scouted around for the nearest exit. “We can crash at the nearest hotel,” he said. “We don’t have to go to Fox Springs right away.” 

Cas nodded. “Okay.” 

The next hotel was five miles away. It was no seedier than previous places Dean’d shacked, no big deal. As he began to unbuckle, turn off the ignition, turn to Cas to ask what he wanted to show Dean, suddenly he found himself with a lipful of angel and nowhere to put his arms but on Cas’ arm and waist. 

Cas tasted like ozone and leather, and he was flushed against Dean. His hands wound their way up to Dean’s hair and gripped at the short strands there, crushing him closer. Dean’s foot caught on the gas pedal - thankfully the car was decommissioned - as he twisted for a better angle. The blood beneath his skin felt alive - it was singing, oh god, what was he, twelve? - burning his cheeks into cinders. Cas’ tongue swept across his lips, and Dean found himself opening more, giving more. Their tongues slid together for a moment before there was a shattering sound interrupting their little makeout session. A rock, large but thankfully not large enough, had been thrown at the windshield. Immediately, anger boiled in Dean instead of lust. His eyes targeted on a pair of drunken, pissed off rednecks who catapulted another rock their direction - missed, thank heaven - and shouted, “Git outta here, fags!” 

Cas glared at them until they shut up, and left under angelic persuasion. His hands were still in Dean’s hair. 

“What was that for?” Dean asked. 

“They were being obnoxious, not to mention rude,” Cas responded. “Frankly, they probably deserve worse than-” 

“Mmm,” Dean practically moaned into the kiss. “One bed?” 

“One bed.”


End file.
